


Out of this Business

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: So what happened in the pilot when Curry & Heyes raced away with the posse chasing them, how did they end up standing outside Lom Trevor's office.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	Out of this Business

Out of this Business

Feeling a bullet whip past him, Curry shouted, “One thing we got to get, Heyes.”

“What’s that?”

“Out of this business.”

Slapping reins across their horse’s rumps, the Devil’s Hole leaders urged their mounts to faster speeds, even as the animals ran belly to the ground along a curving trace that switched back and forth through a dense tree growth.

Without warning, Heyes yanked his horse between a pair of massive Douglas firs, plunging uphill with Curry right behind him. When, from below, they heard the posse’s approach, hauling their puffing horses in, they listened to the hoofbeats sharing a quick look of relief as they faded away.

“Figured they were moving too fast to not stick to the trace,” Heyes said, his eyes sliding toward the sound of the departing posse.

“That won’t hold them long.”

“Nope,” Heyes answered, hopping off and tightening his cinch, with Curry doing the same. “But, they will have to double back to discover where we departed their company.”

Climbing on their horses, they steadily wound upward on a narrow trail that occasionally widened for small plots of grassland dotted with blue, yellow, and red wildflowers that neither of them noticed as they were focused on keeping ahead of the posse they could, again, hear on their tail.

As they raced down a humped bluff, a smile spread across Curry’s face, “hear that?” 

“Yep,” Heyes replied, angling his sorrel toward the chuckling sound of water, pleased when it turned out to be a rushing river.

After about fifteen minutes of ducking wet branches that raked at them as they kept close to the shore, to avoid deep swells and rushing rapids, Curry muttered, “Damn, this water’s cold.”

“Looking for a spot to exit.”

“Look harder, my left boots full!”

Heyes squinted back with an expression that clearly said, ‘why’d you let that happen?’

“Just find an exit point.”

Pushing through a canopy of trees that trailed in the water, Heyes aimed his sorrel for a slab of granite spilling into the river like the leftover runoff of a lava flow.

The horses leapt onto the rock, water streaming from their fur, and catching the reins Curry flung his direction, Heyes urged his sorrel toward a spread of Ponderous pines.

Before going any further, balancing on his right foot, Curry dumped water from his boot.

“Hurry up.”

Stomping the boot on, Curry scurried to the backside of a cedar tree, where he tore a branch free, to feverishly sweep debris across the granite outcropping. Once done, he exchanged the battered limb with Heyes for his reins, and they were off again, with Heyes dropping the limb some distance from their escape route.

As they strived to stay ahead of the men who had no problems firing on them, the sun slowly tracked its path across the sky until its glowing rays were blinding them, and with a muttered curse, Heyes turned to ride across the mountain’s face.

Their passing became muffled as the horses trod steadily on, across fallen reddish-brown pine needles, their route placing them under a jutting outcrop that became a solid bulging face which blocked the fiery, setting sun, but also did not offer any chance to continue traveling upwards.

Their entire focus narrowed to the treacherous trail that shone like a bleached longhorn spine in the fading light as it skirted the mountain’s sheer face.

Behind them, all that could be heard was the wind whistling through the pines, a perfect natural accompiant to the sharp, throaty song of the Mountain bluebirds they had seen flitting from towering pine to pine.

Realizing this, Curry asked, “You think we lost them?”

“You always ask me that, Kid, like I’m supposed to know.”

“Sure, would be nice if you did.”

Having given Clay his head, Heyes eyed the ground falling away, the rock face to their right and the unreachable heights above, his back tightening uncomfortably as it settled in him there were no alternatives but to keep going forward.

They had been moving along at a steady pace, their seasoned horses carefully placing one foot in front of the other when Heyes reined in so suddenly Curry’s bay bumped into his trail mate.

Tired and hungry, Curry snarled, “what are you stopping for?!?”

Standing in his right stirrup, Heyes shifted his weight to lean against the rock face allowing his partner to see what lay before and had the short-lived satisfaction of hearing Curry gasp.

Throwing an apprehensive look over his shoulder, Curry asked, “Do we go back?”

With a wicked, pointed smile, Heyes asked, “Do _you think_ we lost them?” Then heaving out a sigh that sounded like it originated below his stirrups, he slid from his saddle to the slanting ground.

Waving excitedly at the embankment of scree that ended at a drop off ridge, Curry yelped in an octave higher than usual, “we can’t cross that!”

“You have another idea?”

Half-turning, Curry listened with all he had trying to decide if he could hear the posse, and on hearing the crunch of rock, he spun back, his mouth dropping open in horror, “Heyes!”

His partner did not hesitate at his name, just kept leading his horse across the ever-shifting field of fist-sized rocks that threatened to become a cascading avalanche with every step.

Searching desperately for another alternative, even though Curry knew deep down inside, Heyes had already taken the only conceivable, not logical, but conceivable escape route. Rubbing of his mouth with his gloved hand, he called, “Heyes, stop, just stop…there has to be something else.”

Laying a hand on Clay’s blowing muzzle, Heyes turned ever so slowly, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face despite the lofty mountain’s chilly temperatures. “You let me get all the way across before you and Buck start.” A flat smile fleetingly appeared, “no reason for us to ride an avalanche over the lip together.”

Standing on the edge of the debris rockslide, Curry’s blue eyes remained riveted on his partner, the only sound he now heard being his own harsh breathing and the cracking, crunch of the scree field as it moved, rolling away from Heyes and the big sorrel’s combined weights.

Then the rocks shifted, throwing Heyes to his knees, and Clay was sliding, with a fear-filled squeal, the horse leapt forward nearly landing on Heyes. However, they were also still careening down the slope, and beyond them, rocks were bouncing and flipping over the ridge’s lip where two scraggly pines clung, growing tall and thin above the empty nothingness.

“HEYES!”

As Curry’s strained call echoed out, Clay planted his haunches coming to a grinding halt, slamming against the horse’s sweat flecked neck Heyes wrapped his arms about the sorrel, struggling to his feet, he hissed, “Stop yelling, I’m easier to shoot then a fox in a hen house out here.”

Swallowing hard, Curry nodded briskly, his eyes burning with fear as he watched his partner coax the big sorrel into moving again. After strained, overly long minutes, the pair stepped into the open basin of grass on the far side.

Removing his hat, Heyes shoved his wet bangs from his face, while waving Curry to cross.

Climbing from his saddle, Curry held onto its skirt for a drawn-out moment, before muttering, “come on, Buck.” The rocks sank above his ankles on his first step, and planting his heels, he aimed for Heyes.

As they edged across, Curry could feel Buck’s huffed nervous breaths, even as sweat dripped from his own face staining his sheepskin coat. Still, he kept on, watching his feet, as step by step, he waded across the scree field.

The moment Curry’s boots planted on the grass, Heyes pushed out a meager smile, saying, “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Curry’s eyes opened wider, a rush of emotions flickering across their clear blue surface.

“Well…” Putting his hat back on that he had been gripping so tight, Heyes peeked over, “bet that posse won’t chance crossing this spill.”

Curry twisted, studying again the gouge Heyes and Clay had left in the scree on their quick descent toward death. “Might be because they have more sense than some people.”

Heyes’ mouth opened to speak, yet recalling how it felt heading toward what he had been sure was his demise, his mouth clamped shut, and he clambered back up on his horse.

Deep, black darkness found them camped atop a stony ridge surrounded by ragged peaks of bare rock, except here and there, where shade lay during the day, there were still patches of dirty snow crusting the ground.

After a fitful night of sleep, they were in their saddles with the moon still hanging pale in the sky. Taking out across a shelving ledge, they knew their horse’s iron shoes might leave some scars behind, but the hard rock would force trackers to ride slow to decipher where they turned off.

With the setting of the sun, Curry sat atop a boulder methodically chewing down a strip of jerky, just beyond him Buck and Clay were snatching mouthfuls of grass. Heyes came over to sit beside him, and slanting an eye over Curry said, “still can’t believe they crossed that scree.”

“Most likely found another way around,” Heyes replied with a snort, “hope they were up all night doing it. Anyway, we’ve shaken them for good this time.”

In the closing darkness, Curry glared at his partner, and before popping the last bit of jerky in his mouth to grumble, “lost them so good, we can’t have a fire, again, tonight.”

Come morning’s pale light, they were stretching their aching bodies and cricking his neck one direction, and then the next, Curry said, “About now, I’d be grateful for even a cup of _your _coffee.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Hefting his saddle, he’d used for a pillow, Heyes replied, “know that, but I’m too tired to quarrel with you. How about we just get on our horses and make tracks.”

“Tracks? Tracks left by dragging a safe…isn’t that what brought this posse straight to us, in the first place.”

Throwing a hard look at his partner, Heyes stomped over to Clay, tossing his saddle on the horse’s back, so abruptly, the sorrel skittered sideways.

By midday, the horse’s coats were striped from streams of sweat, and the men riding them did not look much better. From the lofty peak of a ragged, gray mountain, they looked off to the west, and Heyes quipped, “well, it worked.”

“What worked?”

“Taking to the peaks,” tilting his head back, he studied the clouds which almost appeared to be in reach. “High mountains always seem to discourage posses who’ve been wrangled together with promises of prestige and wealth by ambitious lawman.”

“Might be because there isn’t nothing up here, but goats and cold wind. Hell, it discourages me, Heyes.”

“Either way, you been watching our backtrail over an hour.” Heyes kicked a rock that tumbled down the incline to bounce out of sight. “You seen anything.”

“Nope.”

“Then let’s find us a place to camp.”

Serpentining down a trail that Curry repeatedly voiced, he felt was made by goats, they arrived in a hanging valley walled in on three sides. Its floor carpeted with tall seed grass, sedge, a long line of silvery, shimmering aspens, and in the center, a small grouping of buffalo stood, their wooly backs highlighted by the golden glow of the gloaming.

Swinging down, Curry jabbed a thumb toward the near wall, “let’s make a fire under those elms. They will filter the smoke, so it doesn’t alert others.”

Climbing stiffly from his saddle, Heyes hung his hat on the horn to scratch at his scalp, then arched his back his face wincing as he did so, hearing Curry laughing, his narrowed eyes slid to his partner.

“You look ten years older.”

“Feel like it, too,” Heyes replied, twisting at the hips, releasing a long yawn. Then putting his hat on, he flipped up a stirrup and began unbuckling his cinch. “Didn’t think they would find us again.”

“But, they did.”

“Yeah, well, we sure wove them a fancy trail to follow. What with all our backtracking and crisscrossing, bet they still haven’t deciphered which tracks were the freshest.”

“Maybe, but either way, we haven’t seen them for more than twelve hours,” Curry replied, tossing his saddle down along the wall under the stubby stand of elms.

Dropping his saddle there too, Heyes returned to his horse. “Kid, you know where we are?” Plucking up handfuls of dry grass, he began rubbing Clay down.

“Need to get my bearings in the morning,” Curry replied, as he worked at grooming Buck. “But I got me an idea we’re south of the Hole, maybe as far as the other side of Salt Lick.”

“Was thinking along those same lines,” Heyes muttered, picking up his sorrel’s feet, checking and cleaning them. “Who’s the law in Salt Lick, you recall?”

“Couldn’t forget, it’s One-Eye ‘bring’em in dead’ Mason Unger.”

Having finished with Clay’s feet, Heyes hobbled the horse, releasing him to graze. “Sure glad, you have a good memory for the law.”

Lifting Buck’s rear foot, Curry picked a clump of mud from around the frog, “at dawn, we can pull out for the Hole.”

“Dawn?” Heyes scanned the darkening valley, listening to the whispering murmur of the aspen trees. “No rush, we could sleep in.”

“Rather do my sleeping in, in my own bed, not out here in the wilds.”

“Awfully pretty wilds, though.”

“I enjoy the wilds up around the Hole, and I feel more at ease there,” Curry answered, releasing Buck to graze alongside Clay.

Grabbing some broken limbs from under the trees, Heyes set to work making a campfire, and in a bit, they were cozied up with cups of coffee strong enough to grow hair on their saddles.

Taking another sip of the steaming brew, Curry frowned deeply, “sure looking forward to Kyle’s coffee.”

Peering at him across the small fire, Heyes replied, “we could hang about here resting a few days, shoot one of them buffalo, get nice and fat on the meat, and I will even let you be in charge of the coffee.”

The fire’s warm orange glow exaggerated the lines of Curry’s frown.

“Come on, Kid. It wouldn’t be so bad. Sides, I’m thinking the Boys might need a bit more time to cool their tempers from me not getting us that $50,000.”

“They can get over it. It wasn’t just you, we all failed.”

“It was my plan, and the Boys wanted the payoff so bad, well, they went and agreed to follow Wheat.” With a sigh, Heyes stared off into the darkness; still, Curry did not prompt him for more, just leaned back sipping at his coffee. “Figure if we stayed here, it would give them more time, or at least me, to come up with a new plan.”

After a bit, the soft crumple of paper being unfolded, drew Heyes back from the darkness he had let himself drift off in, “What you got?”

“Flyer, the lady from Boston gave me.”

“That, the one about amnesty.”

Curry nodded.

“Like I told you then, the whole scheme depends on who you are and what you’ve done, and I’d say we’re a long shot from ranking as penny stealers and chicken thieves.”

“Reckon so.”

With a weary groan, Heyes leaned forward, refilling his cup. As he set the pot down, a knot of wood popped, sending glowing embers into the sky.

Curry watched them until they had all winked out, and clearing his throat, he said, “you know I’ve followed you through good times and bad, always there to back you up.”

Not picking up on his partner’s somber tone, Heyes chuckled, “that you have, and we’ve torn a path to hell and back. Hell, everyone knows our names.”

“That they do, and we have the broken bones and scars to prove the road we’ve traveled.”

This time Heyes caught the bitterness in his partner’s words, and with a tinge of cajoling, he said, “you’re just worn down by this chase.”

“No, Heyes, I’m worn down from it all.”

“Hey, Kid, I know that train robbery did not go the way any of us wished.”

Gulping down the last of his coffee, Curry placed his cup upside down on a rock, “no, it didn’t, but I been thinking…” He looked straight into Heyes’ face, “…all your plans and schemes are going to be the death of us.”

Heyes’ eyes opened wide, and he gulped, “Kid?!”

“Want to sleep,” Curry answered, throwing himself down in his bedroll, pulling the blanket over his face as he burrowed in. Although, his last words still hung thickly in the air like fog on a windless night.

Dawn arrived slowly in the little blow valley, but when the sun topped the ridge, its bright beams flooded across the outlaw’s camp. Except, Curry was already awake and cooking breakfast, enjoying a cup of coffee that had not been made by his partner.

Sitting up, Heyes scrubbed at his hair, making it stick out at even wilder angles, and after scratching at the sharp, dark bristles covering his jaw, he yawned, “pass me a cup.”

Curry did with a brilliant smile.

Taking a quick sip of the hot brew, Heyes grumbled, “you appear in a better mood.”

“Not entirely, but I sure as hell look a lot better than you, that’s for sure.”

Flashing a fast smile, Heyes took another drink before stumbling up and off to relieve himself. On his return, he arched his back with a groan, before accepting the plate of eggs being offered. “Where’d you get these?”

Curry pointed, with the spoon he had just used to shovel in a mouthful, and around the bite answered, “found a nest down there near the creek.”

Raising one eyebrow, Heyes eyed the plate then with a shrug, dug in, “tastes good.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Was getting tired of jerky.”

“Me, too,” Curry muttered, scraping the last off his plate. “Kind of marshy that way, the water seeps from the rock face more than runs. But..” he tossed his empty plate over next to Heyes, “I was able to clean up and shave, figure you can do the same while you wash the plates.” Standing, he looked off to the horses, “I will get them saddled.”

Nodding, Heyes peered up at his partner, “you consider anything I said about staying on here for a spell?”

“I will saddle the horses.”

Heyes nodded a second time, having finished his eggs, he swallowed down the cooled coffee and gathering the morning utensils along with his saddlebags, he staggered off to where his partner had indicated.

Back in his saddle, and looking more himself, Heyes smiled broadly, “sure a beautiful morning, Kid.”

Curry set Buck into motion.

Urging Clay to follow, Heyes asked, “did you sleep all right?”

Curry shrugged, “not bad.”

“Well, I didn’t. . .” Heyes fiddled with his reins, studying Curry to see if he could read anything off him. “Couldn’t get out of my head what you said.”

“About the amnesty?”

“No. About me being the death of us.”

“So, did you eventually get around to thinking on the amnesty?”

“Some, but Kid, we live the life others only dream of.”

A snort erupted from Curry.

“No, I mean it. Look how stunning it is out here with all the blowing green grass, the clouds just kissing the mountains and sleeping out under the stars, really ain’t so bad.”

“Yeah, nights under the stars, where…most times, we can’t build a fire to keep us warm.”

Heyes frowned, then a quick glint came to his dark eyes, “if we went straight, we’d have to get regular, hard on the back, jobs. Could you see yourself working for someone?”

“I already work for you.”

An indignant scrunch came to Heyes’ face, “that isn’t true, we’re partners.”

Curry glanced Heyes’ way, but that glance said more than an entire monologue of words strung together would have.

“We are!”

Saying no more, Curry urged Buck into a trot.

“Besides, Kid, you don’t like change.” Heyes shouted, kicking Clay up, “And, we would _have to change_, learn a whole new way to live, and that would include low paying jobs.”

“Better than being hunted by those hoping to collect our bounties, you know those bounties where we’re wanted _dead_ or alive,” Curry responded, kicking his horse into a gallop.

From there they rode fast, and in silence, and when they slowed to let their horses take a breather, Heyes said, “But our way of life offers us complete freedom from all of society’s constraints.”

“I wouldn’t call being chased from towns living free.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t like we need those towns. We aren’t tied to ‘em, we can go wherever we want, whenever we want, and every day is a new horizon for us.”

Reining in, Curry took a long drink from his canteen, and when done, he finally looked over to his partner, who was smiling merrily at him. “All you been chirping at me is just a lie you are telling yourself, maybe, I _want _the same horizon.”

Heyes’ brows furrowed so deep they nearly overlapped and laying his heels to his bay Curry took off in a long-striding lope.

When they hit the far side of a wildflower dotted meadow, Curry plunged his horse down a deer trail, weaving through trees so narrow, he had to lift his boot from the stirrup at times, just to get through.

When they exited into another meadow, Heyes came up on his left side, “You saying you want to give up all that easy money?”

“The same money we have spent so freely, we no longer have any left, even from that big haul out of Fort Worth Merchant Bank.”

Scratching the back of his head, Heyes answered, “but we have our own gang, our own hideout.”

“You mean the same _hideout, _you don’t think we should return to, because _our gang_ is steamed at you.”

This time Heyes retreated to his canteen for a drink, giving himself time to think. When he surfaced, he was smiling, “We’ve put our names in the history books, we’re notorious.”

“Why don’t you go ask the last posse how notorious we are?”

Not missing a beat, Heyes responded, “don’t matter, ‘cause wouldn’t you miss hurrahing a town with all the loot we pull in?”

“Won’t miss looking over my shoulder for the law coming down on us.”

Heyes winked at Curry, “Yeah, but what about all the ladies?”

“That we pay for?! And, I sure don’t see any out here.” Once more, Curry turned Buck down the mountain on another twisting trail, effectively shutting down Heyes’ debate.

On reaching a meandering river, Curry hopped from his saddle, filling his canteen while his horse drank.

Squatting beside him, Heyes dipped his own canteen in the crystal, cold water. “How about that thrill you get when someone recognizes you?”

Turning, Curry stared at Heyes like he had ants crawling out of his ears, “you talking about that sweaty, gut sick feeling of knowing I have to get the hell out of Dodge, yet again.”

“We don’t always have to run,” Heyes answered, proudly gripping Curry’s shoulder. “You’re the fastest gun in the West.”

Shaking him off, Curry replied, “Been that way since before they put $10,000 on my head, and it still doesn’t keep that feeling at bay when I know, hell when I know we’ve both been recognized.”

“But, that’s all part of the fame and glory.”

Standing with a snort of disgust, Curry strode back to his horse, “were you feeling that glorious up on the mountain, night before last, sleeping with our backs to frigid stone?”

“That’s just cause we had no towns nearby to disappear into. Hell, and when we do hit a town, everyone loves us, they treat us like heroes.”

“That’d be another lie you're telling yourself.” Curry stepped into his saddle and glared down at Heyes. “Everyone does _not _love us, especially the banks, the railroads, and the lawmen they send after us.”

Giving Buck his head, Curry urged the bay into the river leaving his partner to catch up. For a good long while, they rode in their own thoughts.

Swinging his horse about, Curry fell in alongside his partner, “you come up with any other points you wish to express.”

“People do too like us; we get free whiskey in the saloons.”

“No, Heyes, I pay for that after you’ve wandered off with your so-called admirers.”

Seeing the sun shining off Curry’s pistol, Heyes proudly said, “well, we can always afford the best firearms.”

“Been carrying the same pistol for ten years and you’re still carrying that piece of junk, I told you not to buy.”

Unconscious of doing it, Heyes nodded in agreement, “yeah, but we can also afford the best horses money can buy.”

“You been riding Clay for five years, and he most certainly is not the best.”

Heyes shrilly yelped, “Hey!”

“Just being truthful.”

At this, Heyes’ dark eyes blazed with frustration, and he took off, letting Curry follow him.

As they worked their way down the mountain, the sun drooped lower, painting the world in purple shadows.

“You got anything else, Heyes? Cause you sure haven’t convinced me.”

“How about all the dime novels been written about us?”

Curry’s nose wrinkled, a grin escaping, “all right, you got me there.”

Having studied the road, they emerged near, and seeing no one, Heyes kneed his horse out with a triumphant grin. “Besides, we also live a life of excitement, daring, and we get to play with dynamite.”

Trotting up beside him, Curry said, “Say that again.”

“We live—”

“No! The last part.”

“We get to play with dynamite.”

Rolling his eyes, Curry grumbled, “thought that’s what you said.”

“What?”

“Not going to tell you what I’m really thinking.” Curry grinned over at Heyes, “nope, not at all, because you are, despite everything, my one true pal.”

A brief frown darkened Heyes’ features, “Well, then what about all the challenges? Those are great!”

“Like escaping posses while avoiding being shot, yeah, those are _great_ challenges.”

“You just aren’t listening to me, Kid.”

“No. You’re not listening to me.” Curry pulled Buck to a stop, and Heyes reined in. “I’m worn down and done.”

“But..” Heyes swallowed hard, “what about the money???”

“You mean the $20,000 the pair of us are worth.”

“No! From the heists.”

“Oh, like the $50,000 still sitting in that Brooker, which is currently sunk deeper than a snapping turtle in mud.”

“Come on, Kid, that wasn’t my best day.”

“You haven’t been having your best days for a while now.”

Heyes’ shoulders drooped, his head hanging low, and Curry laid a hand on his shoulder. “Not just you, neither of us. Face it, Heyes, times are changing, safes are getting better, posses are getting quicker, sheriffs are getting smarter, and with all the new contraptions you get so excited about, it is only a matter of time before we’re captured or killed. Besides, I’m getting too old to be chased for three days, without suitable food, and being made to sleep on the hard ground under the stars.”

Heyes nodded weakly.

“It’s worth a try, and it’s a _whole new challenge_ for you.”

After a moment, Heyes peeked up with his crooked grin.

More than a week later, and well after dark, they sat their horses in the long shadows at the edge of Porterville.

“Still not so sure about this, Heyes.”

“Did I not agree to try this amnesty idea of yours?”

“Don’t go making it sound like it was all my idea.”

“But it was.”

“Maybe, but once you latched hold of it, hell, it’s been all you’ve talked of. So, I’d say you’ve taken the idea away from me.”

Heyes shrugged with a boyish grin, “Either way, we need someone to speak for us.”

Curry’s eyes strayed worriedly across the glowing windows of the town.

“It’s like I been saying, we can’t just walk up to the Governor and ask him.”

“I know, but you sure Lom will go for this?”

“He _was _our friend.” Heyes answered, his mouth pulling tight, “and there is only one way to find out.”

“So, which one of us should walk into that jail and ask’em?”

Sharing a glowing smile of life-long friendship with his pal, Heyes answered, “Let’s flip a coin.”


End file.
